That evening, as Hermione sat at the dinner table between Harry and Neville, she couldn't shake the thoughts that had been gnawing at her since their return from Gringotts. She patiently fed both boys, dabbing away the mess they made as they giggled and tried to share food with each other. Their innocent laughter was a comforting sound, but it couldn't drown out the worries in her mind.

She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I've been thinking," she began cautiously, her tone betraying her uncertainty. "Now that Harry's officially with me, I should start looking for a place where we can live. Somewhere nearby, of course, so Neville and Harry can still see each other often."

Augusta looked up from her plate, surprise and concern evident in her eyes. "A place to live?" she repeated, almost as if the idea was absurd. "Nonsense, my dear. There's no need for that. You and Harry are more than welcome to stay here at the manor."

Hermione hesitated, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest. "I appreciate the offer, truly, but I don't feel comfortable imposing on you and your family like that. If I stay, I'd need to pay rent or something to contribute."

But Augusta simply shook her head, her response immediate and firm. "Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. You're not imposing at all. In fact, you're doing more than your fair share by taking care of our Neville. That is more than enough."

Hermione glanced down at the boys, who were now making a happy mess of their food. She smiled at the sight, but the weight of her decision still pressed heavily on her. "I just don't want to take advantage of your kindness," she said quietly. "You've already done so much for me, and for Harry."

Without warning, Augusta reached across the table and placed her hand gently on Hermione's wrist. Her touch was warm, grounding Hermione in the present moment. "Hermione," Augusta said, her voice kind but with a firmness that brooked no argument, "you told me once that these two boys deserve all the love in the world. So why would you keep them away from a brother's love?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. The thought of Harry and Neville growing up together, more than just friends—brothers—tugged at her heartstrings. She knew Augusta was right. The bond between the two boys was already forming, and separating them would be a cruelty she couldn't bear.

She looked at Harry, his messy face full of joy, and then at Neville, whose wide eyes met hers with innocent curiosity. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she nodded, the weight of her decision settling in. "You're right," she murmured, the words feeling like a quiet surrender. "They deserve to be together."

Augusta's gentle smile eased some of Hermione's lingering worries. "Exactly. This manor has more than enough room for the four of us. You belong here, Hermione. This is your home now, too."

Hermione's heart swelled with emotion, and she struggled to keep her composure. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to address something that had been nagging at the back of her mind. Augusta had been more than welcoming, but there was still one person whose opinion she hadn't sought—Frank. She wasn't sure why it mattered so much to her, but after everything that had happened, it was only fair to ensure everyone in the house was comfortable with the arrangement.

She cleared her throat, gathering her courage. "Frank," she began, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest, "I've accepted Augusta's generous offer to stay here with Harry, but I wanted to ask you as well. Do you have any qualms about me living here?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow a little quieter. Frank looked up from his plate, clearly startled by her directness. He wasn't expecting to be asked, and the surprise was evident in his eyes. He glanced briefly at his mother, as if seeking some kind of guidance or reassurance, before his gaze returned to Hermione.

There was a brief silence as he considered her question, and in that moment, Hermione held her breath, unsure of what he might say. Then, Frank straightened up slightly in his chair, meeting her gaze with an unwavering look.

"I trust my mother's judgment," he said calmly, his voice clear and sincere. "So no, I don't have any issues with you being here."

Hermione breathed out a long breath of relief. His answer was simple, but it meant more to her than she expected. There was something in the way he looked at her—direct and honest—that made her believe he was truly trying to trust her, despite the complexities of their situation.

"Thank you," she replied softly, offering him a small, genuine smile. "That means a lot."

Frank gave her a nod, a subtle acknowledgment of the exchange, before returning his attention to his meal. The moment passed, and the conversation around the table gradually picked up again, moving on to lighter topics. But Hermione couldn't help but feel that something had shifted, just slightly, between her and Frank.

The tension she had been carrying with her since arriving at the manor seemed to ease, just a little. Augusta's reassurance had been comforting, but Frank's acceptance—however cautious it might be—felt like a step forward, a step toward truly becoming part of this family. As she looked around the table at the people she was beginning to care for so deeply, there was a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.